


Midgar Wastelands: The Memories of a Forgotten Turk

by Syran



Series: Midgar Wastelands [1]
Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Off-screen Relationship(s), Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9608471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syran/pseuds/Syran
Summary: "...Tseng remembered the times that they shared, even if no one else did." Cloud forgot that Zack and Tseng were friends once. Tseng visits the forgotten sword and reminisce.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My goodness this is old. 3 going on 4 years old actually. However it is one of my favorites. Also the FFVII fandom is still where I feel the most comfortable. The first thing I do when I want to write new characters is write them as Turks and SOLIDERs. Anyway may you enjoy.

The sword sat slanted in the plateau, its edge deep in the soil. At that angle it resembled the way it slung across the back of its former master. Tseng could just barely see the man. Sometimes he was blonde, others he was a raven. At points he was tall with skin touched by the Gongagan sun. Sometimes he was a simple countryman with a love for purple apples, or even a shy young man from the small town lost in the Nibel Mountains. Tseng could never pick, but the sword was always the same. It was sturdy, meant for a man that relied on strength more than speed, and its handle was torn and weathered, symbolizing its years of use. As time passed the tool changed owners, but it always carried the same significance. It represented bravery, pride and honor. Tseng couldn’t help but notice that the sword stood for everything he wasn’t.

Looking intently, Tseng saw the sword’s rust and silently wondered if this was what Angeal intended. Tseng distinctly remember the big SOLDIER being a little over protective of the sword. According to his subordinates, the man never used it. The purpose of a weapon, of a tool, was to be used. If a weapon was never used, was it still a weapon or was it just useless material. Without Angeal’s constant care or Zack’s and Cloud’s constant use, the sword that represented so much was now nothing more than a tombstone. It was because of those thoughts that Tseng still performed his duties. Without them, what was he? Could the same fate await him when he was no longer of use? 

Tseng solemnly noted that would most likely be the case. He was never naïve. He knew as soon as his usefulness was drained, he would be slaughtered like a pig and thrown in a ditch. His death was not something he wondered about. He wondered of the afterlife, the Lifestream. Would he be welcomed there? Would he see others? He wondered what it was like and if Aerith had the chance to tell Zack the messages that he couldn’t deliver. 

He sighed at the onslaught of unwanted memories, the soil and the winds whispering his mistakes in his ears. The reason why the sword’s last owner chose this specific spot to be its last resting place crossed his mind and his chest ached with the failure. Zack Fair – even when the two became enemies, Tseng always viewed the other as amazing. He had his flaws, his naïveté being one of them, but his determination and his willingness to help others simple floored Tseng. Never had Tseng met a man that wanted to give so much. 

Staring at the sword that once belonged to the man that he cared for, his features softened. Tseng remember the times that they shared, even if no one else did. He made the Turk’s life tolerable. The constant missions, the abundance of failures and the killing of mentors was something that they both shared. When the pressure of filling another’s shoes became too much for them, they somehow found their way to each other. Neither judged and neither Turks nor SOLDIERs existed. For a moment they were just themselves and for once it was good enough. 

Thinking of Zack was always a confusing matter. He was sometimes overwhelmed by the guilt of a failed mission. Other times he was engulf in the memories of tanned skin, bright smiles and their shared cruelty of fate. Most times he was bombarded by both. Zack was... he was... something else. He made Tseng feel, even though Tseng new that emotions were distinctly prohibited in his line of work. Even now the memory of Zack still dictated some of his decisions. Most of which, regarded Cloud Strife. 

Cloud is an interesting creature. When Tseng sees him, he sees so much sorrow. The Turk could never imagine the heavy burden this sword must have been on that boy’s shoulder. There was so much that Cloud had to be, when the boy wasn’t even sure who he was in the first place. Zack, and even Angeal, placed all their hopes and dreams on this one boy and surprisingly, he delivered. The dreams of an honorable man and of hero were passed on to this young man and he fulfilled them. However the dreams of an insecure country boy will always be unsatisfied. He chased everyone’s dreams except his own. So lost in the others, Tseng wondered if Cloud even remembered his dreams. 

Tseng wouldn’t be surprised. He forgot his years ago. He abandoned his dreams, his home – everything, just to survive. Tseng thought of his own childhood dreams. It was only after much thought that he remembered that he wanted to be a photographer. He even remembered having a camera bouncing on his chest as he ran from the shores of Wutai. He had that camera for years and couldn’t remember for the life of him where it was now. It seems that dreams are just as fleeting as the spirits that dreamt them. 

Though, now the world was at peace and, unlike the others, Cloud had survived his chase for it. He had a chance to chase his dreams. Sadly Tseng was sure that Cloud didn’t have his own dreams anymore. That was why the boy wasted his days away, becoming a mere delivery boy when he could be so much more. He did what was asked of him, never questioning the daily drum of a fruitless life. It was heartbreaking to Tseng. 

Tseng still remembers the young cadet that Cloud has forgotten. He remembered the Cloud that would stand in front of a beast for him in Modeohiem, always eager to help and prove himself. Now that fire was gone. He’s proven his worth, twice, yet he seems to be the only one to not see it. Though, asking for the man to rekindle that flame seemed useless. What do you reach for when you are already perfection? Hojo robbed the boy of his chance of finding his self worth by giving him a false value. 

Yet even after being given such greatness, the young warrior still couldn’t find his place in the world. A part of Tseng wants the boy back at Shin-ra. Shin-ra seemed to be the place where lost souls congregated. His Turks would understand Cloud; see him for what he was really worth. They would respect him for his own accomplishments and not the accomplishments of a mad scientist. The country boy would be just that in the eyes of his Turks, and Tseng believes that is what Cloud longs to be viewed as again. However, another part of Tseng wished the blonde had just stayed in Nibelheim. The boy should have never stepped foot in Old Shin-ra’s once mighty glass doors. The world might have been destroyed but at least the kid would be happy, even if it was in the Lifestream. 

The breeze picked up, his loose hair and pieces of the sword’s tattered handle blew in the passing wind. The burst of air scattered the surrounding soil, causing small clouds to form around his polished loafers. It seemed the breeze was unnatural after all, the force of Cloud’s motorbike’s abrupt stop causing it. The sword’s remaining master now stood tall in front of the Turk, his body blocking the setting sun behind him. The sword remained slanted in the plateau behind the blonde’s silhouette. It seemed to be on Cloud’s shoulder once again and for a moment Tseng couldn’t see it on anyone else. He didn’t seem like a lost soul but a man that carried the strength and presence of those before him as well as his own. Tseng silently wished that this was the way that Cloud always looked – then he matched eyes with the one before him. He may have held strong but his eyes showed just how weak he really was. 

“What are you doing here,” Cloud asked harshly. 

He voice pulled Tseng away from his thoughts but he kept he eyes on the blonde as he spoke, “He was my friend at some point as well, Strife.”

“What’s that suppose to mean, Turk?”

“We both failed on that day and we both lost a friend.” Tseng turned then, keys in hand. He let the past haunt him enough for today. They could haunt him more in his dreams later. 

“Don’t walk away from me,” Cloud demanded as he roughly grabbed the Turk, turning him around.

“You don’t want me here Cloud,” Tseng began calmly, “So I won’t stay.”

Cloud sighed, “Wait, Zack wouldn’t want that.” Tseng raised an eyebrow at the change of heart. “The least I can do is let you stay,” Cloud continued, “We were friends once too, right?”

“I like to think we still are.”

“What?” Cloud asked in confusion, “But we tried to kill each other.” 

“I’ll tell you what my mentor once told me,” Tseng said with a soft smile that Cloud didn’t think he was capable of, “Don’t let a silly think like war ruin a good friendship.” Cloud looked even more confused so Tseng continued, “Friendships are hard to find for people like us, our jobs shouldn’t get in the way of that. The world’s desires are fickle and so are our positions in it. Today I could be your ally and tomorrow I may be you opposition but that will never stop me from being your friend. It never stopped me from being Zack’s.”

“I think I understand,” Cloud mumbled to himself as he finally let go of the other’s shoulder. 

Finally free Tseng turned again ready to go, when the voice of a modest country boy asked him to wait. “Yes,” Tseng answered.

“Don’t let me chase you away,” Cloud answered his voice normal again, “I have a problem of chasing my friends away.”

Tseng returned back to where he once was, the sun now completely swallowed by the shadows of night. For a while they stood there, just a foot or two away from one another as they mourned for the man that fell at Midgar’s Wastelands and marveled at the sword he once carried and all it stood for.

**Author's Note:**

> Fanfiction.net (2013)


End file.
